She feels peace, in sync with the world
Sitting under her fig tree,
adorned in a false sense of victory.

She feels serene, and attuned to the wild,
Feasting upon the open air,
blind to the woes of her only heir.

She feels ethereal; drifting along with the waves,
Cocooned in a cloud of vanity,
Veiled by a fictive surety.

You look at her and can't help but be envious,
She pays heed to everything except anything that's odious.
I am sure some would very much like to beg to differ; but I don't agree
Sue me too, I'm with her,
High as a kite with no tether
She is a beauty and I the beholder.

So excuse us for trying to avoid colliding head on,
With the ever impending premature armageddon.
#newone

© Ma-cal